Tommy was leaning close. His posture was different tonight—less cocky swagger, more desperation. He gestured toward the dance floor, obviously asking her to dance.
Lark shook her head. Firm and final.
Thank God.
Her sister had insisted for weeks the relationship was over, but Wren still worried Lark would cave. Especially since Tommy was proving himself to be one tenacious son of a bitch.
He’d left a rose on the windshield of her car one day when she was at work. He’d had Lark’s favorite pizza delivered to Wren’s apartment last Tuesday, along with a note that dinner was on him for “Twin Tuesday.” They’d designated that night each week as sacred, always getting together at Wren’s for dinner and a movie, though in all fairness, Lark ate at Wren’s place more than home. He was still texting Lark, who, for some annoying reason, refused to block his number, even though she never replied to him.
Lark reported that he’d even stopped by their parents’ house with a big box of chocolates, joining Mom for tea, schmoozing her, and whining about how much he missed Lark. Luckily, Mom was too smart to be taken in by Tommy’s games, but it had still driven Lark crazy that she’d let him into the house to begin with.
Wren grinned to herself when she recalled Mom saying, “But, Lark, he was armed with a Whitman’s Sampler. You know how much your dad likes those chocolates. They list what they are right there in the box, so I don’t have to poke the bottoms.”
“That guy’s not catching a clue, is he?” Grayson muttered darkly.
Everett, who’d been happily scraping the last of the bacon off the plate from the now-demolished cheese fries, glanced up. “Who?” He looked over as he asked, then frowned. “Tommy? Thought he and Lark broke up?”
“They did,” Grayson said, his brows furrowed.
“She broke up with him,” Wren clarified. “Tommy seems to think the relationship can be saved.”
Everett shook his head. “Never did understand how those two lasted as long as they did.”
Wren was liking Everett more and more with each passing minute. “Me either.”
Tommy looked like he was doubling down on the dance, which only made Lark more resistant. If Wren felt compelled to help the man—she didn’t—she would remind him that the worst thing he could do with Lark was try to convince her to do something she didn’t want to do. It only made her sister dig her heels in deeper.
Lark’s arms were crossed and she was scowling, her lips moving nonstop. Again, Wren didn’t have to hear their conversation to know her sister was giving Tommy one hell of a dressing down.
A week earlier, Lark had admitted to meeting Tommy for lunch. Only, she said, because he wouldn’t stop texting and calling. Lark thought perhaps hearing her say in no uncertain terms that they were over would help convince him.
Clearly, it didn’t.
“Maybe I should go give him a word,” Grayson said, with enough menace in his tone that Everett stopped watching the Lark/Tommy drama and turned his attention to his brother.
Everett saw the same thing Wren did. While her protectiveness for Lark was also surging to the forefront, Grayson’s expression revealed something else as well.
Jealousy.
The realization hit Wren right in the chest, causing her heart to ache.
Until her brain engaged. Grayson thought he’d kissed Lark at the festival. He was jealous because of that kiss.
The kiss he’d shared not with Lark but with Wren.
She suddenly wished she had more—or, well, any experience with men, because it would help her interpret and understand his reaction better.
Jealousy meant he cared, right? That he felt that way because the kiss—because she—mattered to him.
The lightness that swept through Wren came so suddenly, it almost made her dizzy. Happiness bubbled strongly, and she thought she might laugh for sheer joy.
That kiss had meant the world to her, and now, knowing it meant something to him too, was wonderful.
But her happiness faded just as fast.
In his mind, he’d kissed Lark.
And Lark needed the lie to stand.
